


Building Bridges

by Lykegenia



Series: Kitten - Cullen x Maighread Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bookworm Trevelyan, Dragon Age Quest: In Hushed Whispers, Gen, Grumpy Cullen Rutherford, Light Angst, Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Pre-Relationship, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lykegenia/pseuds/Lykegenia
Summary: Cullen tries to deal with his wayward feelings for the Herald of Andraste - a mage, of all things.





	Building Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Doesn't technically take place during In hushed Whispers, but I imagine there were more than a few feathers ruffled when the Circle mage Herald decided to side with the mages rather than the templars.
> 
> Featuring Maighread (may-red) Trevelyan, and the mutual trust issues that make her relationship with Cullen so much fun to explore.

Cullen scowled as he stomped around his tent, teeth gritted as he searched for something that might distract him both from the headache growing behind his eyes and the memory of that afternoon’s meeting. Having deemed it wasteful to polish his already gleaming sword yet again, he lay it back on its stand and turned in the cramped space to look over his desk. There must be a mission report to sign off, a training schedule to amend, anything that might occupy his time. Eventually, he spotted a pile of papers and all but lunged for them, disrupting the stack of books Maighread – the Herald, he snapped at himself – had sent from the Storm Coast.

_We found an abandoned house on a ridge overlooking the forward camp. Most of the volumes could not be saved, but I thought you might appreciate these._

He tried not to read too much into the gesture, choosing instead to focus on the formal tone of the note now tucked as a bookmark in between the pages, and the fact that she had sent them through couriers along with the medical supplies and not spoken about them since, because despite the titles being exactly on the subjects he found interesting, it was too much to hope that giving them was a sign of partiality. After all, her high opinion of books was well known, and there were often complaints from her companions about how she would compulsively stop at every dilapidated barn and wayside ruin to see if there were any tomes within that could be salvaged. He was probably just a convenient dumping ground for those volumes she found did not suit her taste.

Still, books had been precious growing up, and no matter the intent a gift was a gift. He picked the books up carefully from where they had fallen on the floor, checking each one for signs of damage by running both eyes and fingers along the spines and covers. When he found them no worse for their knock, he heaved a sigh of relief and moved them to his nightstand. His fingertips lingered on the embossed title of _The Evolution of Siege Warfare_ , but with a shake of his head he tore himself away. It was not a sign of what his traitorous mind was hoping for. She was a mage, for a start, and after today…

Cullen groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been trying not to think of the meeting, the hours of back and forth as they tried to decide whose help would work best to seal the Breach. Mages or templars. Even after so much destruction, it still came down to that. They had circled each other, he and Maighread, winding tighter and tighter, tempers rising until the inevitable snap that had been building since their first encounter.

“You have no idea what adding more power will do to the Breach!” He shouted it at her, his hands trembling at the memory of another magical explosion. “With enough templars, their abilities to weaken the Breach might be enough to –”

“ _I don’t trust templars!_ ”

He rocked backwards, stunned, only realising when she glanced down and sneered that his hand had reached instinctively for the hilt of his sword.

“And since I like my forehead the way it is – _unbranded_ ,” she spat, “I have no intention of walking into a den of them. We should reach out to the mages and bring them here, if for no other reason than that they don’t deserve to fall prey to Tevinter.”

“Bringing such a large force of mages here without the supervision of templars would threaten the safety of everyone in Haven.”

The look she gave him then might have frozen the sun. “No doubt you would be more lenient if only they could make use of themselves and close rifts for you,” she snapped, and he knew he had gone too far. “They’re not a ‘force’. They’re a group of frightened people trying to make their way in a world that for their entire lives has despised their very existence. There are _children_ among them. Would you consign children to Tevinter slavers?”

“I didn’t mean –”

“How many reports of abominations have there been in Redcliffe since the mages arrived there? _Substantiated_ reports,” she added, with another icy look in his direction.

He saw Josephine glance apologetically at him before she answered, “None.”

“And instances of blood magic? Child sacrifice? Mysteriously missing left shoes?”

“None that I have heard.” Leliana this time, aloof as one of her ravens. “In fact, the word from the villagers is that the mages have been a blessing, helping the crops to grow and providing healing for those who ask for it, in addition to helping fend off the demons coming through the rifts.”

“Fancy that.”

It should not have stung as much as it did. Not just because, standing at the war table listening to everyone else discuss accommodations for the mages, his mind baulked at the possible fate awaiting the templars trapped at Therinfall Redoubt – men he might have fought with, men he might have once commanded, and he unable to do anything to help them. No, what caused the ringing in his ears and the pounding of the heart was the way Maighread – _the Herald_ – kept him carefully at the edge of her vision without ever directly looking at him, shoulders tense as if he were a dangerous animal that might attack at any moment. He was glad when the meeting ended and she called Leliana back for a private word, because it meant he could storm out in peace, without having to maintain their shared, stony silence beyond the war room door. Such a reaction, from a _mage_ – no, those were not his thoughts anymore, he would not be trapped in that mindset again.

Light footsteps on the gravel outside caught his attention, and or a moment he feared it might be Vivienne come to try and once again persuade him to change the Herald’s mind.

_Surely you can’t agree with this course of action, my dear? She is rather headstrong, I admit, but you must convince her of the folly in trusting those rebels._

He had heard many similar words over the course of the day as word spread of the Herald’s plans, and he doubted he had the strength now for another argument.

But it wasn’t Vivienne. It was the Herald herself, her appearance at the entryway of his private space so late in the day unexpected enough that it shocked him to his feet.

“Herald! I…” Their earlier disagreement fizzed in the air between them.

“May I come in?” He noticed how she rubbed her thumb against the mark on her palm, a sign of unease. Had something happened?

“Of course.” He fumbled slightly as he removed his stack of completed reports from his desk chair and held it out to her. “Please, have a seat.”

She had to duck her head to step inside, and when she lowered herself into the chair she rotated it slightly to give herself a clear view outside, leaning her staff against the arm for easy reach. Her hand brushed over the dagger he always saw belted to her hip, as if to reassure herself it was still there. Always on guard – he felt a sudden fierce stab of guilt thinking about what must have happened to make her so. _I don’t trust templars_. Still, as she looked around at his meagre possessions she seemed more curious than wary, and it left him rather self-conscious until he noted the ghost of a smile that softened her frown when she caught sight of the books by his bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, noticing his regard. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, after…” She cleared her throat. “I thought you should know, Leliana is planning to send some scouts into Therinfall Redoubt to spread word about the Inquisition in case any of the people there might want an alternative to what the Lord Seeker is offering them.”

The ridiculous ember of hope in Cullen’s chest flared a little higher. “That’s… Thank you, Herald. I am glad to hear it.”

“Cassandra said I should speak to you,” the Herald continued. “She said…” For a moment, she seemed lost for words, and he felt his stomach drop into his boots. Surely Cassandra wouldn’t have shared his secret – or had his behaviour fallen so far she thought it better to get the Herald involved?

“She pointed out that mages and templars have been at odds for so long… that perhaps things wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are if there had been greater understanding between us.” She sighed, brows drawing together in concentration as she teased out her next words, but he was so relieved his secret was safe he barely noticed.

“I would like to know more about templars.” She shifted in his chair, settling down, still tense. “If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

“If you need insight into what the Order is doing now, I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than you already know,” he joked, but faltered when the jest missed its mark and instead made her scowl. He tried again. “But anything else, I will answer as best I can.”

A brief smile.

“What would you like to know?”

“I’m not sure. In the Circle, we would spend all day with templars, but they hardly ever spoke to us.”

“We were expected to maintain a certain amount of distance from our charges,” he allowed. “It was to prevent our judgement being clouded in case of… blood magic, or possession.” He paused, gauging her response.

“To make the final blow easier,” she surmised. Her voice was flat, without either the anger or the contempt he expected.

“To prevent any hesitation that might cost a greater number of lives – mage or templar,” he replied, but his voice rang hollow beneath the conviction that had been drilled into him at the Bournshire academy.

They continued in this way, tentatively, a cautious back and forth of questions comparing experiences of life in the Circle, templar duties, training, and other minutiae that fell like sand through the fingers. The Herald’s – Maighread’s – questions were measured, thoughtful, revealing a sharp intelligence he hadn’t been able to appreciate before. Her head tilted whenever she encountered an unforeseen piece of information in his answers, as if she were carefully cataloguing it away to be perused at leisure later. He found himself leaning closer, elaborating his answers though he still remembered to tread carefully, the voice of caution usually so present in his mind reduced along with his headache to a faint buzz at the back of his skull, easily ignored. When she asked why he himself had joined the templars, he hardly blinked at the personal nature of the question before admitting he had always wanted to protect people.

She was more relaxed now, to the point where she even forgot to glance for danger in the darkness beyond the tent flaps. Her long legs stretched to within a few inches of his boots, close enough he could trace the neat stitching on the seam of her breeches all the way up her inner thigh. But it was her smile that held his attention most, full and bright and lacking its usual wry shade when he revealed how his mind had wandered in his lessons.

“A life of service and sacrifice,” she mused, massaging her thumb over the mark again, as if it pained her. “Next you’ll tell me that templars are expected to be monks as well as warriors.”

“Um, no,” he replied, torn between embarrassment and vexation. “Templars can marry, though there are rules around it. Some may choose to… give up more, to prove their devotion, but it’s not, uh, _required_.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Maighread’s hand flew to cover her mouth; her eyes widened in shock; colour bloomed on her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that.”

Cullen was still mustering a response when she sprang to her feet with such force it rocked the chair briefly onto its two back legs, her staff already in hand as she shuffled towards the exit, mumbled apologies spilling from her mouth.

“Herald, wait.”

She froze, and realising he had nothing in his head beyond the desire to keep her just a little longer, he floundered.

“I… uh… What I wanted to say is, I respect your decision regarding the mages at Redcliffe.” _Please, Maker, let the words come out right this time._ “I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict, and because of it I’ve treated mages with distrust – at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I will try not to do so here.” He sighed. “However, I still feel we need safeguards in place to protect people – including mages – from possession at the least.”

“In my experience that tends to work best when there isn’t an edge of cold steel on the back of your neck waiting for an excuse.” The coldness was back in her tone, but then she shook her head and the tension drained out of her shoulders, leaving only fatigue. “Outline a plan and I’ll go over it with Cassandra to see what can be done. If nothing else, it might help deter the idiots who think taking Chantry law into their own hands counts as sound judgement. But I will not see them caged again.”

“I… Of course not. And – Herald?” he added, as she turned once again to go. “Uh… I took no such vows. Since you were wondering.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the books on his nightstand again, before squaring up and offering him a formal bow. “Goodnight, Commander.”

He only just remembered to bow back. “Goodnight, Herald.”


End file.
